Kyros (discontinued)

Chapter Twenty Seven

Kyros (3rd person)

KYROS NEVER HAD a stable relationship with the Gods.

Not that anyone of his blood-line ever did in the first place. The Gods looked down upon the immortals who'd been stripped of their mortality. Kyros was no exception, but being a direct descendant of the God of the Werewolves did have its perks. 

For example, Hades had considered Kyros a close friend of his. Though he wasn't friend-material, Kyros knew better than to make a God one of his enemies - a lesson he'd learnt through his fathers actions. 

Kyros had power. 

And that was something the Gods could not deny - which is exactly why they respected him for it. 

So when he had called for the help of Hades - he had gotten exactly that. Kyros rarely asked for help from the God of Hell, but with Talias' life on the line, he would do anything to protect her and return her back to him safely.

"You owe me, Hades." He snarled at the tall, gloomy God. The compelling being had sat in his throne, chewing on his grapes with an unnecessary amount of force as he rolled his eyes. 

Indeed, Kyros had done the Gods many favours, including the one and only, Hades. The summer before  the year 1745, Kyros had helped Hades win Persephone over. In fact, he'd been the one to introduce them. Till now, Persephone and Hades had been happily married. Even though, at that moment, she'd been with her mother, and Hades had been at his most angry state of mind.

"I'm the God of Hell, Kyros, not the God of Death."

Kyros could only snarl, "I'll handle their death. I just need you to make sure their after-lives are filled with endless torture."

So when Kyros had arrived to where he knew the Lycans had been hiding his female, he knew they stood no-chance. Because with the help of the Gods' Kyros was unconquerable.

Talia

SOON MY SKIN was as the surface of a boiling stew. Beneath the thin skin bubbled toxins, the pains of my past leaving my blood, seeking release. And so it was. One by one the bubbles burst as easily as pimples. It was a recurring nightmare. 

I was paralyzed, naked, cold. 

A masked man had come closer with the knife, making sweeping movements to a music only he could hear. He would be closer, then further away and then closer again.

The man was more silent than the grave he arose from, staring with heavy lidded eyes and a slack mouth. His cheekbones accentuated the skeletal look and in his gaze my mind was robbed of emotion. Instead of running, or screaming I stood more still than the mossy statue in the heart of the graveyard and just as cold. 

He beckoned with fingers that rapidly faded to only a suggestion of form. I passed each stone without taking account of the path until I stood in a place that was unrecognizable. She became more solid again, but this time her skin bore many silver scars, thick and jagged.

I screamed. Loud and strong; yet no one came to my rescue.

I fought for control over my body, long before the masked man could attack me with his knife and dice me into tiny little pieces. 

I was covered in my own sweat and blood by the time I had regained consciousness. I sighed, realising it had all just been a throng of hallucinations the silver injected in me had caused.

I struggled against my silver cuffs, groaning in pain when my attempts were rendered useless. I bit my lip, searching the room for ways I could escape. Because there was no fucking way I'd let these people end me.

Havoc through the walls of my cell snapped me out of my daze. I thrusted my body forward, in attempt at deciphering the root cause of the commotion outside.

I heard loud roars and growls.

Deep growls.

My heart raced, the sounds thumping their way to my ear drums, my breathing became heavy, and time had slowed.

Suddenly, my cell door was thrown open. A security guard had fumbled his way over to me. He'd grabbed his keys and begun to unlock my cuffs.

"What's happening?"

"Shut up and follow me. You fight me on this and you'll get killed, y'hear me?"

I had began mentally plotting my escape as I nodded obediently. A wave of deja vu had hit me; this happened the last time I was here. A security breech rendered the Lycans frightened and Nicos and I had used it as an opportunity to escape. Long story short, we didn't make it out. And we were punished for it.

The man unlocked my cuffs, grabbing my arm and leading me outside and away from the commotion outside. I craned my neck behind us wondering what the hell had been going on.

He harshly tugged me forward, "Walk faster." 

I glared holes into the back of his head, picking up my pace so he wouldn't beat me to a pulp. 

A booming growl stopped me in my tracks. I couldn't move. I couldn't think. I couldn't do anything but turn my head to the direction of that growl.

The Lycan tugged at my silver cuffs harder, and I would have grimaced had my mind not been preoccupied. 

When I had chosen to ignore his orders, he lifted his arm towards my face, clenching his knuckles in attempt to land a blow on me.

But a muscular bicep stopped him. 

He had the kind of face that stopped you in your tracks. I guess he must get used to that, the sudden pause in a person's natural expression when they looked his way followed by overcompensating with a nonchalant gaze and a weak smile.

It was hard to mistake him for someone else.

Kyros had tousled dark brown hair - almost black - which was thick and lustrous. His eyes were a mesmerizing deep smoky grey, flecks of silvery light performed ballets throughout. Dark eye bags were painted beneath his beautiful eyes. It was then that I had realized he'd actually been worried.

His face was strong and defined, his features molded from granite. He had dark eye brows, which sloped downwards in a serious expression. His usual snarl had drawn into a hard line across his face. His perfect lips ripe for the kissing. 

Kyros twisted the lycans arm so far back, the crack echoed through the whole building. And with a flick of his arm, he'd rendered the man limp.

He turned to me and I felt like I couldn't breathe anymore. I didn't know what came over me, but I felt like I couldn't hold my tears in anymore. A waterfall of tears slid down my cheeks.

Kyros took long, fast strides towards me until he'd been so close, I could hear his fast-beating heart.

His strong hands, slightly rough from beating the Lycan to a pulp, held mine as he stared deep into my eyes. I couldn't help but grin. His body was warm and soft as he hugged me, comforting to the touch. 

Adonis followed closely behind as a throng of Lycans surrounded us. He cocooned me into his arms. I held back my fear and melted into his body like putty.

His voice was deep, with a serious tone. His lips brushed my ear as he spoke, "I'll be back. Just let me kill these motherfuckers."